


Too Good To Be True

by Loremaiden



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Food, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A perfect meal away from Baker Street was just too much to ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Good To Be True

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to JWP 2016 #6 (Food, Glorious Food) on Watson's Woes. Inspired by poor Hardwicke!Watson never getting a good meal away from home.
> 
> Food, Glorious Food: A crime/mystery/anecdote/scenario involving food. As complex or simple as you wish to make it.

The meal was delicious.

The roast grouse fell right off the bone to mix with the light gravy, and was perfectly matched with the port. The vegetables in his garden salad were fresh and crisp. He even had to tamp down the urge to grab his bowl of cottage soup with both hands and drink it down.

_This is perfection_ , Watson happily mused as he dug into his currant-laden Bedfordshire pudding. _Mrs. Hudson could barely do better._ As he savored the last remnants of the pudding, he pulled out his billfold in order to properly thank the keeper of this country inn--

_...A country inn._

With infinite sorrow, the doctor reverently placed the spoon back upon the table. Holmes, deep in thought with a cigarette nestled between his fingers, was pulled from his reverie.

“Is something wrong with the meal, dear fellow?” Holmes inquired.

Watson shook his head regretfully. “Nothing is wrong with the food here, Holmes. And that is the problem.”

The detective nodded in compassionate understanding. “You have deduced it, then.”

A wistful sigh escaped from Watson’s lips. “Yes, Holmes, I have.”

The cozy inn and contented feeling melted away from Watson as he awoke, replaced by the rough mattress of his bed for the night, and the cheap black pudding he had choked down earlier that evening sitting like a stone in his stomach.


End file.
